Lucky Number Seven

Well, seven – times eleven, actually. Apparently, in Japanese custom, turning 77 is a milestone age that should be celebrated with grand fanfare. My mother, however, a typical Aquarian eccentric, threatened to disown me if I planned any kind of birthday bash for her 77th. She is too humble, you see, to be the center of attention. So, I’ll honor her here, and spare her the embarrassment and she can smack me upside the head the next time she sees me in the street.

Seriously, in New York, you’re better off fighting in the street. If you fight in your own home, neighbors call the cops on you.

Then again, I hardly fight with my mom. It’s not because we’re gal pals or I’m that good Asian daughter. No, it’s because I know I’ll never win. Never. My mom has a sharp tongue, a very rogue sense of humor and unbounded energy that seems to get more out of control the older she gets. The woman walks a minimum of three miles a day and when she was snowed in she climbed up and down the stairs of her apartment building.

Who does that, right?

While I can’t claim that her charm is nurturing or supportive – she has been responsible for presenting the truth in life changing ways. If you don’t deserve praise, you’re definitely not going to get it from her. My mom rode the same elevator as Mick Jagger once and when he doubted she knew who he was, her response was “Sure I know who you are, you were in The Beatles.”

Only she could stump a Rolling Stone.

She’s not a big woman, she’s not a loud woman but she does have presence. That’s not an easy thing to accomplish. She taught me everything about being a performer – about respecting the stage and your audience and your art. Most importantly, she taught me not to insist. In the land of pushy Americans, that’s a tough thing to teach.

Finally, she’s an American herself. Yes folks, she went back to school and became a Naturalized Citizen. Her classmates are young enough to be my children (if I were a teenage mom). I’m proud of her and deeply respect her persevering character. Hopefully, she’ll read this post because if I told her this in person, she’d ask me if I’d been drinking and smack me upside the head.

Asian moms.

Humble Happy Birthday.

My mom with my sister

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  1. Asian mums, indeed! Wish I was a fly on the wall when she met Mick.
    My mum’s tiny and seems harmless appearance wise but gee, that tongue. Razor sharp!
    O-tanjoubi omedetou!

  2. What a wonderful way to honor your mother! Did you bake her a cake? Moms like that.

    • Actually, the boys and their friends constructed a cake last night. The spongecake, fresh whipped cream and fruit were delicious but watching them put it together with snot streaming out of their noses took some nerve to eat it.

  3. I love that old school mentality… not mean, but straightforward. We’re too busy trying to be everybody’s friend these days, especially parents!

  4. Who is that cute little girl in the photo? 🙂 Your mom sounds like a very special person.

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